And he assembles a trade delegation and the flat Valar, who can pretty much carry on a normal conversation at this point, open a portal. They put the portal in the star system but not attached to Godspring's inhabited planet.
And through the trade delegation goes.
The elf blinks at him confusedly. "...there are some in the sitting room also?"
"Is it customary for some reason to display taxidermied house elf heads, and if so, what is that reason."
"Is showing how long has been a respectable house with elves, sir."
Squeeze. Sigh.
The door opens.
It's a man in his fifties, maybe, with hair long enough Elves would find it indecent, and robes that are almost eye-catchingly black. "Way! You should really make appointments, dear, sometimes the grownups are busy."
"Won't be five minutes, I have a question."
"I'm not casting any more spells on winged people without more explanations of same."
"Cam's not here as a test subject, he's my boyfriend."
"Oh," he says amusedly, looking at Cam more than glancingly this time.
"He was prettier a couple years ago, you know."
"I was imagining I'd make occasional cutting remarks but I can't actually think of a reply to that which manages to further clarify how appalling it was, well done."
"Oh, he enjoyed himself, did he not mention that? What was your question, Timothy -"
"Killing Curse on an invulnerable target, does it feel the same as failing to cast it properly in the first place or different?"
"I could tell the difference."
"Thanks. We'll get out of your way."
Back to the shuttle. "Should've warned you about the elves, sorry, lots of families do that."
"Do they behead them when they become more decorative than practical or wait for them to die?"
"I know. Mother told ours she got a lot of use out of having them sit around tasting varieties of tea for her but usually once they can't do useful work -"
"Not that I know of. I really should have thought to warn you."
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